


Sweet Talk 101

by foxjar



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Canon Era, Drama, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Pining, Romance, Yusuke's Birthday Week 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: After a bit of a tussle, Ryuji starts to see Yusuke in a whole new light.Then there was Kitagawa Yusuke, seemingly willing to go however far it took for him to wrench out a person's deepest insecurities and fling them onto a blank canvas. Not everything had to be that deep, Ryuji thought. Sometimes things could just be pretty without much depth to them."C'mon." Ryuji stretched out his leg, the sole of his shoe squeaking against the floor. He laughed. What else was he supposed to do? "You can't be that upset."Yusuke's shoe met his in an odd game of footsy, despite the flurry of rush hour around them. Ryuji stared up into Yusuke's eyes, thinking they were a little too glossy.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34
Collections: Yusuke's Birthday





	Sweet Talk 101

**Author's Note:**

> Yusuke's Birthday (day one) prompts: complementary + locked away.

Ryuji has only seen Yusuke cry once, and even then it was more a misting of tears in his eyes.

The Sayuri was clutched in Yusuke's hands, his eyes raking over it, trying to sleuth out every inch of meaning. Everything from the line thickness to color choice was sure to hold some importance to him, some poetry woven into the fibers of the canvas. The painting was for him; it'd always been meant for him. The painting _was_ him, both a swaddled baby Yusuke and his doting mother.

Commuters making their way to and from work flitted through the accessway, still the Phantom Thieves' hideout at the time. Ryuji sat on the floor, his back against the hard bars of the railing. Akira and Ann were consoling Yusuke, telling him how happy they were that he'd finally obtained the truth about his mother and the Sayuri. They were right; the way Madarame used Yusuke was horrible. Ryuji would've wanted to dig out the truth too, but did they have to discuss it out here? What more could be said? Ryuji would've been more worried about what he was going to do now that he had no home. With Madarame facing a stint in jail — for how long, no one knew yet; maybe the rest of his miserable life, for all Ryuji cared — Yusuke was a bird without a nest.

"You're not gonna yell out 'mom' or anything, right?" Ryuji asked, a little too loudly. A few passersby glanced at him but he just turned to Yusuke, who was still holding his mother's painting. It's all he really had left of her, and Ryuji started thinking about his own mom. What if the only thing he had to remember her by was some note she'd left him? A grocery list of some sort with an irritated addendum reminding him to clean his room? She wasn't very artistic, so he couldn't see her leaving him something as extravagant as the Sayuri.

Ann sighed his name in frustration, and for a while, nobody spoke. But then Yusuke handed the painting to Akira, someone who'd gained his trust by that point, and stepped in front of Ryuji.

The sunset streaming through the windows covered Yusuke with an eerie orange glow. He was tall and thin and everything about him just seemed off, slightly skewed and daunting. He had the sort of aura that drew people in, but they couldn't put their finger on exactly why. The swoop of his dark blue bangs curled against his cheek as he looked down at him, the railing digging into Ryuji's back as he tried to scoot back.

Ryuji hadn't known Yusuke very well back then. Inside Madarame's Palace they'd found out just how dependable he could be in battle — with his ferocity, his affinity to ice, his sheer drive to leave the world a little better than the one they'd inherited — but their first meeting still rang clear in Ryuji's head.

Yusuke following Ann around. Insisting she pose for some painting — and nude, at that. As pleasant as the image was in Ryuji's head — her bare breasts, the curve of her hips — it still seemed strange. He joked about Ann's body, but he never pushed. He never took it that far.

And then there was Kitagawa Yusuke, seemingly willing to go however far it took for him to wrench out a person's deepest insecurities and fling them onto a blank canvas. Not everything had to be that deep, Ryuji thought. Sometimes things could just be pretty without much depth to them.

"C'mon." Ryuji stretched out his leg, the sole of his shoe squeaking against the floor. He laughed. What else was he supposed to do? "You can't be that upset."

Yusuke's shoe met his in an odd game of footsy, despite the flurry of rush hour around them. Ryuji stared up into Yusuke's eyes, thinking they were a little too glossy.

_Shit. Is that my fault?_

The way Yusuke's hair fell across his face, the glossiness of his eyes, him biting his lip in contemplation — it was all kind of beautiful in a way. Even his eyes no longer made Ryuji think about how different Yusuke was, how much of an oddity; it made him seem relatable. More human.

But then came the pain as Yusuke slammed his foot onto Ryuji's, bearing the entirety of his weight upon him for the briefest of moments. A few minutes prior, Ryuji had been snickering to himself about Yusuke's lankiness. His presumed frailty — outside of the Metaverse, anyway.

Ryuji was wrong. Yusuke dug the toe of his shoe in and Ryuji's foot stung with pain, his sneaker suddenly feeling a size too small. He howled and pulled his leg back, wrapping an arm around his knee.

"Apologies," Yusuke said, plucking the Sayuri from a confused Akira's hands before turning to leave. Ryuji watched him go: the straightness of his back, the sureness of his saunter. What had once been a simple unease was slipping into treacherous waters.

Ann didn't laugh — it might've been fitting if she had — but she twirled one of her pigtails as she told Ryuji he kind of deserved it. If Ann was willing to forgive Yusuke's indiscretions, maybe Ryuji was missing part of the bigger picture.

"Who says something like that? Especially after everything Yusuke's just been through?" Ann's question was rhetorical as she slung her bag over her shoulder and trotted off, but Ryuji tried to answer it in his head, anyway.

_I don't know. I really don't._

Akira offered Ryuji his hand and helped him to his feet. The only ache he felt in his foot by then was a pang of loss. No damage done. Not physically, anyway.

That was the first time Yusuke made Ryuji see stars.

* * *

The TV's hum is quiet in the otherwise still night. Ryuji thinks about shutting it off; it's late enough for the programming to swing back to news for night owls: recaps of the daily headlines with a smattering of trivia and fun facts that only the sleep-deprived could truly appreciate.

But even if he did know which crevice of his room the remote had slipped into, he'd leave the TV on. The sound is a nice sort of background noise, an ambiance he never thought he'd need. It helps steady the static in his head.

Ryuji is used to jacking off to porn, not the news. He'll usually plug his headphones into his ancient laptop or his phone and go to town, his belt buckle clacking to the floor as he focuses on the theme of the day. MILFs, lesbians, not-quite-incest — Ryuji can appreciate it all.

The TV provides some sense of normalcy: lights, sound, soft murmurs. It's what he's seeing in his head that's different this time, that mop of blue hair and those long fingers. That white button-down shirt he'd love to rip open, scattering buttons in every direction; those black slacks he'd love to pull from thin hips.

The moment Yusuke stepped on Ryuji's foot, he became something more.

Ryuji had fooled around with one of his teammates on the track team before, but it hadn't gone any further than pawing at each other in the dark. It was lustful exploration, not a true desire for who they were lying with.

This is different. Ryuji trails his hand down his stomach, slips inside the confines of his underwear, and wraps his fingers around himself. He bucks his hips and thinks of Yusuke towering over him, usually so composed, but then Ryuji says something without thinking again, one of those wayward thoughts. Yusuke opens his mouth and he wants to say something clever, something snide, but he never does because he's too busy moaning. His hair clings to the nape of his neck, damp with sweat, and his eyes are dark, seeing nothing but Ryuji beneath him.

And what a sight that is, even existing solely in Ryuji's head. Would Yusuke be disgusted with such thoughts, or would he manage to find some beauty in them in that all-knowing way of his? That familiar ache builds in his wrist, coursing up his arm as he strokes himself. It's too hot in his room, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, and he tries to push off his socks with his toes but they bunch up around the middle of his feet.

Ryuji grabs his phone and scrolls through Yusuke's messages. They've never spoken much outside the Phantom Thieves' group chat, but his eyes zoom in on every word Yusuke's sent.

_Would anyone like to join me at the art museum today? There's an exhibit on female Japanese printmakers._

Context doesn't matter; Ryuji just needs to be able to read the way he talks, those mannerisms of his, so that he can imagine them in his head. He curls his toes, rocks his hips; pleasure ripples through him, as sensitive as ocean waves. Who knew he could get off thinking of Yusuke talking about art as he straddles him?

But then he drops his phone and it hits his face before slipping to his chest, hurting more than Yusuke's foot ever could. He's picking it back up when he sees it must have pushed something when it hit his nose; the screen is bright with a phone icon and a single name.

Yusuke.

His heart hammers in his chest and he's about to mash the "end call" option as hard as he can, but Yusuke picks up. Knowing Ryuji's luck, of course he does. It's the middle of the night and yet here Yusuke is, picking up on the first ring, asking Ryuji what he wants. He doesn't sound tired or angry, just curious.

Of all the innocent questions for him to ask, though. For a few seconds Ryuji's erection was starting to slip away, but he starts to stroke himself again, tucking the phone into the crook of his neck.

"I, uh, I dunno," Ryuji says. He thumbs the tip of his cock and sees stars; he never thought he'd be able to touch himself while listening to Yusuke's voice. "Why are you even awake?"

"I was inspired. What is it that you need?"

 _You,_ Ryuji almost dares to say. _I need you._

He tries to hold back his moans, tries to fill the silence with forced banter, but he's sure Yusuke hears the wet sounds his cock makes as he jerks himself. He'll be mortified later; for now he has Yusuke on the other end of the line, listening to him and hearing him as no one else has, and he can't help but crave more.

After a long, awkward silence, Yusuke finally says, "Were you inspired, too?"

Ryuji's hips jolt off the bed. "Guess you could say that, yeah."

"Do you need any assistance?"

Yusuke knows. He has to. He can hear Ryuji in bed or he can hear it in his voice; something gives him away and there's nothing more arousing than the fact that Yusuke hasn't hung up on him yet.

"I could do with some nice words, maybe," Ryuji says. He moves his hand slower, his fingers gripping a little looser. "A bit of a pick-me-up, y'know."

Ryuji never imagined Yusuke being great at dirty talk, but what he does finally say almost makes him burst out laughing. It does nothing to curb his desire, though; he wants every part of Yusuke, awkward words be damned.

"You are quite handsome," Yusuke says.

"I'm gonna need more than that. Something with a little more oomph."

After another pause, Yusuke continues, his breathing heavier. "Are you imagining I'm there? Tell me how you'd like me."

This hits Ryuji right where he needs it. He closes his eyes and pictures Yusuke again, bending over him, his hair slipping from his face as their lips meet for the first time.

"On top," Ryuji says, "but —"

"You're inside me."

Ryuji shivers, every inch of his body aflame. He doesn't bother trying to repress the shuddering of his hips now, reaching for a warmth that isn't there.

"Don't say it like that," he mumbles.

"Like what? So clearly, you mean?" Ryuji can hear the smile in Yusuke's voice, but it isn't cruel. It's intrigued, maybe even a little aroused.

Is Yusuke feeling this heat, too? Does he want him anywhere near as badly as Ryuji wants him? With his eyes closed, he can almost hear the quietest sounds escaping from Yusuke's end. Is he touching himself?

Ryuji has so many questions and so few answers, but the Yusuke in his imagination is riding him without abandon. The limitations of the real world don't exist; there is no time, no lack of energy. There is only the fevered union of their bodies, and then Ryuji is spilling in his hand, his hips jerking, thighs trembling. He gasps Yusuke's name and is met with silence as his high starts to cool, his sheets damp with sweat and come.

Small talk with Yusuke tends to steer toward art, but it's somehow easier to speak after everything tonight. Ryuji would've thought it'd make things even more awkward, but being able to talk with Yusuke like this, one on one — he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

"Do you not hate me?" Ryuji asks. "For what I said about your mom?"

It's been months, with a multitude of late-night sessions with the phantom Yusuke above him, but that conversation still permeates Ryuji's thoughts every so often.

"Of course not. It was insensitive, but I never held it against you."

"For what it's worth," Ryuji says, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you. You're a good friend."

Ryuji's heart races and he takes that final, galloping leap.

"A good friend, or...?"

Yusuke chuckles, a sound Ryuji never imagined he'd come to adore.

"Let's see where this path leads us, shall we?"

**Author's Note:**

> Years ago, my friends brought up the scene/dialogue this story is based on. They also said Yusuke should've given Ryuji a whack.
> 
> In canon, Yusuke doesn't seem to notice the remark at all, but I thought it'd be fun to use it to explore an "oh shit Yusuke's pretty cute" moment for Ryuji.


End file.
